


What Remains Off-Limits

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, lorithia fans pls interact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Lorithia sets her sights on Tyrea, and it turns out even Yumea has her limits.
Relationships: Lorithia/Yumea
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	What Remains Off-Limits

**Author's Note:**

> are there any other lorithia fans around?? i just love how unapologetically awful she is. lorithia fans pls interact (yumea fans too)
> 
> i love high entia women in general i guess

“Do be careful,” Lorithia purrs. “Or you may rouse suspicion from His Majesty. I have noted subtleties are not your forte, however…”

“He’s turned a blind eye to all that isn’t his beloved Second Consort.” Yumea brushes back her hair with frustrated sweeps, about to bark for a servant by reflex before remembering that there is no one down here to heed her calls. It’s— ugh, she can’t tame these tangles alone. The hairbrush clatters on the floor, and Yumea instead turns her attention to picking articles of clothing that lay strewn about the room.

Lorithia hasn’t bothered getting dressed yet, nor does she cover herself to preserve any modesty. All the catharsis has long since passed; Yumea glares at her, nothing but contempt left. To that, Lorithia merely smirks and stretches her wings out.

“Envious, are we?”

“Of _that_ woman?” If these were her chambers, Yumea would be ordering Lorithia to gather her things and leave. “You should see how the years have ravaged her. Ha! She can scarcely stand on her own feet.”

“They live such tragically short lives, the Homs.” Lorithia dramatically sighs, draping an arm over her eyes. “Generations gone in the mere blink of an eye. The Second Consort will die before she can even see Melia Antiqua grow into a woman.”

Yumea sneers. “How sad for her.” _Melia Antiqua will not have the opportunity to reach adulthood, either,_ she thinks to herself.

Gathering the layers of her dress is taking far too long and it would take at least an hour to make herself presentable again without the assistance of her maids. Yumea grimaces at Lorithia’s state of undress, making violent gestures at her to do something, at least cover herself up, even though these are Lorithia’s quarters and she’s free to do as she pleases.

Yumea supposes she may envy that freedom, if she were ever inclined to be honest with herself.

“Although…” Lorithia taps manicured nails to her chin in thought, lips curled. “Have you ever put any thought into the implications of that mixed blood? Set aside your hatred and use your brain for once, if you will.”

“How dare you speak to me like that—“

“Oh, please. You know that I know, _your Highness._ ” Lorithia’s eyes narrow as her smile widens. A shiver runs down Yumea’s back, but she pretends to focus on dressing herself to avoid giving off any hint that she’s unnerved. “I am referring to that whelp you keep at your side.”

Yumea freezes. “What does Tyrea have to do with any of this.”

“She will never be able to fulfill her duties to the Bionis as she is,” Lorithia murmurs, crawling down the length of the bed to wrap her arms around Yumea’s back. For all that familiarity they shared earlier, Yumea still involuntarily shudders at the contact. “I have been looking into… genetic engineering.”

“… And?”

“Would you allow me to take a look at her?”

Yes. _No._ She remains silent, tightly gripping a handful of fabric on her lap. Tyrea is many things, but she is not expendable. Of that, Yumea is certain, no matter how dim-witted the girl is. Besides, in spite of everything, she is still…

But the fact that she _is…_

A mother cannot help these feelings. That’s what she says to convince herself over and over again whenever she looks at Tyrea, at the odd hues her hair grows out in and how her ears are shaped differently from her son’s. Kallian is strong and magnificent, truly the righteous heir to the throne and epitome of a pureblooded High Entia. Yumea is proud of him in the way one would be proud of some nebulous accomplishment with no definition. But Tyrea is something else entirely, a product conceived from duty but born of personal decision. Bionis knows she’s grateful that Tyrea’s wings have grown out, full and strong enough to lift her into the air like a proper High Entia, but that alone would never erase the truth of what she is.

Just as Lorithia said, Tyrea will never join her sisters of the Bionite Order in their final gift to the Bionis.

Some buried part of Yumea is grateful for that as well.

“What would you do with her?” Yumea cautiously asks.

“Take some of her blood, for starters,” she says, running her palms down Yumea’s wings. “Run tests on her. Poke around. You don’t need to know the details.”

As if she’s a fool. Yumea has seen the aftermaths of Lorithia’s unsuccessful experiments. Those messes were enough to make anyone nauseous.

“ _Give her to me,_ ” Lorithia whispers into her ear, her breath sweet and warm.

Yumea leaps to her feet, shoving Lorithia off her. “You will _not_ lay a finger upon Tyrea!”

For once, Lorithia’s composure almost breaks. Almost. Her brow rises in faint surprise and her mouth opens, then closes. Then she laughs.

“As you say, your Highness.”

* * *

The Prime Minister of Research has demanded an audience of one. Tyrea answers the call unquestioningly, no time given to notify the First Consort, uncertain but unwilling to disobey a direct order. They do not think, they simply act. Lorithia is waiting there amidst all her lab equipment and piles of research notes, cast in the eerie glow of unprocessed ether bubbling behind glass.

She gestures for Tyrea to approach. “Remove your mask.”

So she does.

“Hm…” Lorithia places a finger under her chin, tilting her face up, then grips her jaw to turn her head this way and that. Sharp nails dig into her skin, but Tyrea says nothing nor shows any sign of discomfort.

“You _are_ a fine specimen, aren’t you?” Lorithia murmurs, her grip tightening. Tyrea’s eyes flare and she bares her teeth, earning a wicked grin from the taller woman. “How can I resist when you’re right here?”

“The First Consort will hear of this,” is all Tyrea says, knowingly and threateningly.

“… Oh, boo. She warned you, didn’t she? I should have expected her to ruin the fun,” Lorithia huffs and lets go of her face. Tyrea immediately steps away, rubbing her jaw and placing her mask back on.

“What do you want from me?” Tyrea demands.

Lorithia pauses. She could reveal the ugly truth of Tyrea’s true heritage right here and watch her have a mental breakdown. Then she could watch Yumea’s reaction— assuming Tyrea would even confront her about it. Probably not. The girl is depressingly loyal and single-minded when it comes to worshipping her mother. Perhaps Tyrea wouldn’t be so fun to psychologically toy with after all.

Such a dullard. Lorithia can’t possibly pretend to understand why Yumea would want to protect her, but she isn’t quite interested in fully falling from Yumea’s graces, either. No, the First Consort is far too valuable right now.

“Run along. Scurry back to the First Consort’s side,” Lorithia says, dismissively waves a hand. “I have no need of you… at the moment. Wait. Be sure to send Yumea my regards. Tell her I look forward to our next evening together— that is an order, understood?”

Tyrea pauses as realization dawns upon her; she can’t hold back a visible shudder that ruffles her feathers. “… Yes, Prime Minister.”

“Good girl.”

Lorithia smiles as Tyrea vanishes, satisfied with herself.


End file.
